


Nightmares

by lindz402



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feelings, Grief/Mourning, Night Terrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindz402/pseuds/lindz402
Summary: “The first thing John Smith becomes aware of is the air. It’s dry and hot; uncomfortably so, which is bizarre considering the fact that he can see snow falling through the window in the small, cramped room he woke up in. There’s also an odor consisting of what he can only identify as smoke along with something else sour.John looks around the dull, fluorescently lit room, and realizes he doesn’t remember how and when he got here.”





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So this is my first fic, and it only seemed right to make it about my favorite couple in my favorite show. Constructive criticism is of course welcomed, and I’d love to hear what you think. I hope you enjoy!!

The first thing John Smith becomes aware of is the air. It’s dry and hot; uncomfortably so, which is bizarre considering the fact that he can see snow falling through the window in the small, cramped room he woke up in. There’s also an odor consisting of what he can only identify as smoke along with something else sour.

John looks around the dull, fluorescently lit room, and realizes he doesn’t remember how and when he got here.

He’s sweating, which is undoubtedly a result of not only the heat, but also the uneasiness settling in the pit of his stomach.

He studies the room, which seems to be some kind of waiting room. There are two doors next to each other, one of which is much wider and heavier than the other, and there are chairs lining each wall.

It’s cramped, and people seem to all be wearing hospital gowns and dog tags. Their faces are worn and haggard, and their gazes fixed on the floor. Their eyes are empty.

 _Where_ _am_ _I?_ , John briefly considers wondering aloud, however stops himself when he notices just how silent the room is.

He’s torn from his thoughts as one of the two doors are opened. Two men, both in Nazi uniform step in. They all but drag a boy into the room, and quickly turn on their heels, saying nothing and exiting as quickly as they’d entered.

The boy, a teenager, really, looks extremely familiar to John, and he racks his mind to place him. There’s a mature, stoicism etched into his features that immediately makes John respect him.

Perhaps it’s the father in him, but he also wants to comfort the boy. To tell him it’s going to be okay, and that he doesn’t need to wear that mask of bravery he’s so carefully displaying.

As he continues to make his assessments, the boy looks up at him. The realization hits John so hard he loses his breath.

“Tho- Thomas...?” He rasps.

John’s mouth is bone dry. The uneasiness in his stomach is now burning throughout his entire body, and he barely registers that the small room is now empty save for him and Thomas.

Thomas only stares back at him.

“Thomas, what are... are- are you alright?”

In an instant, John all but leaps out of his seat and falls to his knees in front of his son. He takes Thomas’ face in his hands, his vision clouded with tears. John roughly pulls Thomas into a tight hug, stroking his hair and rocking him slightly.

“Thomas, my boy, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m taking you home now.” He breathily coos.

“I know you did what you did because of me, and I know you thought you had to.”

John pulls back enough to look Thomas in the face. He tries to suppress the anxiety he feels as he stares into his son’s unreadable, unfocused eyes. He continues.

“You didn’t have to. I don’t care if they find out. I don’t care if the Reich sees you as defective. Thomas, you aren’t, you’re perfect. You’re more of an honorable, courageous, good man than I could ever dream of being. I love you so much, son, and I- we all need you, Thomas.”

Out of fear of losing it completely, John stops talking, and stands. He keeps a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiles through watery eyes.

“You ready to go home?” He asks softly.

For the first time, Thomas focuses his gaze directly at his father.

He softly echoes John’s question. “Go home?”

John blinks. “I- I bet we can get your mother to make your favori-“

Thomas cuts him off. “You want to take me home, father? Do you really think I’ll just be allowed to just walk back into our house and carry on as if nothing ever happened? I’m sick, father. I’m no longer a valuable member of society.”

“Thomas, I’m one of the most important men in the Reich, I’ll handle everythi-“

Thomas sharply cuts off his father.

“You should have just killed me, Father. You should have injected me that evening. It would have been a lot quicker and a lot less cruel. But you know why you didn’t?”

John’s eyes are wide and he’s finding it impossible to breathe.

“You didn’t because you’re a selfish coward. You didn’t, not for me, but for you. **You** kept me alive and **you** lied to me, because **you** couldn’t bare the guilt and the pain that **you** would have felt if **you** let me die. Never mind the pain that I felt. Never mind that by keeping me alive, you made me face the fact that I was letting you down. I was poison to your career, and if you lost your position, the rest of the family would be in just as much, if not more danger than you. That would be on me. I couldn’t live with that, father. So really, I had to turn myself over. It would have been selfish not to. By not killing me when you had the chance you forced me, your child, to make that decision. So you go home, father. **You** face your wife and your daughters, and **you** live with your decision.”

John is dizzy. It’s as if he was just punched in the stomach, and he forces himself to swallow a wave of nausea, steadying himself on the wall. Attempting and failing to catch his breath, he stares out the window. It’s snowing much harder now.

He feels sick, and he knows that Thomas is right. He’s a disgusting man and a coward. John squeezes his eyes shut and returns to his knees.

“I- I’m so, so sorry, Thomas. I... Please...” He pleads, although not sure for what.

Seemingly out of nowhere the door opens, and the same two officers who brought Thomas in earlier enter. They roughly grab Thomas and start dragging him towards the heavier, metal door.

“Wait, wait no.”

John staggers to his feet and steps after them.

“Hey, stop!”

It’s as if they’re unaware of his presence altogether.

He tries again louder now. “I’m Oberstgruppenführer John Smith, and I order you to stop!”

The men don’t hesitate before heaving open the door. The room becomes swelteringly hot and the stench of smoke permeates the room, burning its way through John’s lungs.

“STOP!” he chokes.

Desperate to reach his son, John sprints after him, but instead of getting closer, it’s as if he’s being pulled further away. The smoke is making it impossible to breathe. John’s head begins to swim.

“THOMAS!”

He runs as hard as he possibly can, and can barely see Thomas turn his head toward him. There are tear stains on his face. For a moment everything freezes. The snow outside stops falling. John can’t move, and it’s deafeningly silent.

John is left to helplessly stare at his son.

Then Thomas speaks. He sounds tired and resigned. “Wake up, father. I may not have died by your hand, but you ended up killing me anyway.”

It’s as if a play button is pressed, because things suddenly resume. John is running again, the snow is relentlessly falling, Thomas is pushed through the door. The two men in uniform promptly shut and lock it.

“THOMAS!” John tries to scream, but the sound he emits is more of a strangled cry. John comes to a stop, collapsing onto the floor, coughing violently.

Those words, “Wake up”, are everywhere. He tightly shuts his eyes and buries his head in his arms in an attempt to block out Thomas’ voice repeating them over and over again in his mind.

John doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, and each time he hears those words, “Wake up.”, he’s pushed further and further into hysterics.

Although, the more it’s repeated, the more Thomas’ voice fades and the more he hears a new, distinctly female voice replace it.

He opens his eyes, searching for the owner of this new voice, and blindly grasping at anything he can cling to as a lifeline. John soon finds himself engulfed in a pair of arms, and ceases for a moment before letting out a guttural sob.

“I’m so sorry, Thomas. I’m so, so, sorry.”  
He repeats every so often as he cries.

“Oh, John.”

The arms surrounding him are rubbing at his back and he finally realizes who they belong to and exactly where he is. He’s on the couch, and his wife is desperately trying to console him. It was another nightmare, only this one had taken everything from him. Helen must have heard him and come out of the bedroom.

He clutches the front of Helen’s nightgown and continues murmuring and letting the occasional whimper escape his lips.

“It wasn’t snow...”

Helen silently moves a hand to cup John’s face, stroking at the stubble forming there, and presses her face into his hair. She tries to keep her own emotions in check, and more importantly, soothe the broken man in her arms.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like this for, but eventually, coming to his senses, John feels a wave of embarrassment and his pride gets the better of him. Attempting to compose himself enough to speak, he sits up and cradles his head in his hands. He doesn’t want to face Helen.

“How long?”

Helen sits up beside her husband and continues tracing soothing patterns on his back with one hand.

He hesitates and draws in a deep, shaky breath and releases it before answering.

“About two weeks. None have been... like this, though.” John answers, voice gravelly and full of raw emotion that neither Helen nor himself are used to hearing.

“You didn’t have to let it come to this. You should have talked to me, I’m your wife, not your subordinate.”

Although her words are chastising, her tone is gentle.

“You don’t need to put on a stony face around me, John. I do need you to be strong, but I don’t want you to pretend to be untouchable. Please, just be real with me. That’s the only way we’ll get through this.”

John looks at her directly for the first time and takes her free hand in his, kissing it gently. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Helen.”

Helen’s eyes are shiny, full of unshed tears, and she rests her forehead against his.

“... so sorry.” He whispers, closing his eyes out of fear of breaking down again.

“I know.” She presses a kiss to his forehead

“And I know I haven’t made it easy on you either, John. It’s just so-“, a tear slides down her cheek, “I miss him so much. And I miss you. I need you here with me, John. Mourning with me. Healing with me. Aren’t you tired of holding it all in?”

John lets go of her hand and moves his own to brush the wetness away from her cheek. He stares into her eyes.

“I’m exhausted.”

He wraps his arms around her and she immediately reciprocates.

“I love you, John. I’m sorry. I know this all isn’t really your fault. I- I just need... time... I’m trying to be strong, I-”

“You are. You’re being so strong, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, Helen.”

He kisses her cheek, then her forehead, and finally plants a soft kiss on her lips.

“And I love you too.”

Standing up, John pulls Helen with him and without letting go of each other they make their way into the bedroom.

Once settled under the covers, impossibly close to each other, they let themselves drift into a slightly more restful sleep than they’ve had in weeks. Both taking comfort that they’re in a better place than they were yesterday.

John can’t tell her about his nightmare. He can’t tell her how much what Thomas said stung. How right he was. Not yet, not right now. He has to deal with that himself, and can only promise that he’ll share other things. Other emotions. He won’t bottle them up and wait for this to happen again. He’ll be better for his family. He’ll be better for Helen and Thomas.


End file.
